Early Morning – Deep Forest Trail, Forks
The forest was drenched in mist, the air cold and heavy. Desmond moved through the trees, his senses sharper than ever. The path Elias had marked for him led deep into untouched territory—old Quileute land, where few dared venture.
Leona followed close behind, not out of obligation but instinct. Despite her sharp tongue, she had become something of a shadow to Desmond lately. Trust was forming—slowly, carefully—but it was there.
"What exactly are we looking for?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"A key. A weapon. A piece of me," Desmond replied, eyes focused forward. "It's called the Second Fang."
"And you think it's buried in the middle of nowhere?"
"I don't think," Desmond said calmly. "I remember."
He didn't elaborate further, but in truth, the memory wasn't clear. It came in fragments—dreams, instincts, feelings left over from another life. From a story he once read… and now lived.
As they approached a worn stone arch hidden by moss and time, Leona slowed.
"There's something wrong here."
Desmond felt it too.
The ground thrummed—an energy he recognized now. Old magic. Not vampire… not wolf… but something else.
He stepped through the arch—and the world changed.
A sudden flash of light—
They stood in a chamber not bound by time. The walls pulsed with life, as if veins of energy ran through the stone. At the center, resting on a dais, was a jagged blade made of obsidian and silver. It shimmered unnaturally, humming with raw power.
The Second Fang.
Desmond stepped forward, but a barrier flared up—crimson and white. It flung him back, crashing against the far wall.
Leona rushed to him. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he grunted, wiping blood from his lip. "Figures it wouldn't be that easy."
From the shadows, a voice:
"So… the anomaly comes seeking power."
A figure emerged, cloaked in gray, face hidden beneath a hood. Not vampire. Not werewolf. Something… in between.
"Who are you?" Leona demanded.
"I am the Watcher of the Second Fang," the figure said. "And only one with a soul born of moon and blood may wield it."
Desmond stood up, eyes narrowing.
"I am that soul."
The Watcher tilted his head. "Then prove it."
Suddenly, the chamber darkened. A trial had begun.
Desmond was alone—Leona vanished. Shadows lunged at him, forming into twisted creatures—part vampire, part wolf, part nightmare. He fought—not like before, but with refined precision. Every move calculated. Every strike deliberate.
He didn't overpower them with raw strength. He outsmarted them.
He used their own speed against them, forced them to clash into each other. He broke through the illusions one by one… until only silence remained.
The Watcher stepped forward, nodding slowly.
"You're not ready yet. But… you're becoming."
The barrier flickered, weakened.
The Second Fang pulsed once—recognizing him.
Outside – Later
Desmond walked out of the ruins, quiet. He didn't take the weapon—not yet. But now, it called to him.
"Was it worth it?" Leona asked.
He nodded. "It confirmed something. I'm more than just an anomaly. I'm a convergence. I was never supposed to exist—but now that I do… the balance is shifting."
Leona looked at him for a long moment. "What now?"
Desmond turned toward the horizon. "Now we prepare. Because this was just the beginning."
Elsewhere – Volturi Council Chamber
Aro stared into the fire, eyes narrowed.
"He's begun his awakening."
Beside him, a pale woman with crimson eyes whispered, "Then it is time… to move."